Chapter Text
ONE MONTH LATER . . .
“Stop moving, asshat.”
“How am I not supposed to move? You’re spraying this shit in my eyes. It’s the body’s first reaction when its eyes are being assaulted.”
“Well, tell your body to stop reacting.”
Dustin fixed him a look that read, ‘Steve, are you stupid?’ but Steve had been on the receiving end of that look so many times in this past month it no longer had its intended effect on him.
“I’m serious, Henderson,” Steve grabbed his comb off of the bathroom counter, “Plant your ass and don’t move an inch until I tell you.”
“But I-!”
“Do you want my help or not? ‘Cause if you want, I’ll let you try to tame this rat’s nest yourself. Just wait until you get the comb stuck. Don’t come crawling back to Stevie when you’ve got a comb hanging off your head.”
“Fine,” Dustin sassed back, finally relenting in his mission to make Steve’s life difficult, “I’m sorry for interrupting, Oh Grand Hair Stylist Steve Hopper.”
Steve rolled his eyes, raking his comb through Dustin’s unruly curls, “You’ve been spending too much time with Eddie.”
“Like you can talk.” Dustin snarked.
Steve retaliated by brushing out a knot in Dustin’s head just a little too roughly. The younger boy yelped in response.
He had a point though. As if Steve and Eddie weren’t already close enough before the world almost ended the second time, Eddie’s introduction to the Upside Down only brought the two closer. There was also the added factor that Nancy and Jonathan made it official two weeks ago and well – Steve just hasn’t been hanging out with them as much. To give them some space. As a couple.
“Alright pal, I’m about to introduce you to my secret weapon.” Steve said, grabbing the brown paper bag he had brought with him to Dustin’s house, “You wanna know how Steve ‘the Hair’ Hopper got his iconic ‘do?”
Dustin’s voice was dripping in sarcasm, “Do I ever?”
Steve flashed him a middle finger, but slowly pulled the hairspray out of its hiding place, revealing one of his all time biggest secrets.
“Farrah Faucett spray?!” Dustin yelled, bursting out into laughter.
Steve crossed his arms, shielding the can from Dustin’s evil laughter as though it was his own child, “Be nice. She’s gonna do wonders for you.”
“Isn’t that from the women’s aisle?” Dustin asked, apprehension clear on his face.
Steve sighed, running a hand through his own perfectly coiffed hair, “Yeah, I guess. But it’s just hairspray. And besides, man, she’s hot. Ergo – her hairspray is gonna make you hot.”
“Ergo.” Dustin repeated, “Steve Hopper is standing in my bathroom holding a can of chick’s hairspray and using the word ‘Ergo’.”
“I swear you’re the judgiest five year old on the planet.” Steve bickered, popping the lid off of the can and giving it a good shake, “I don’t know why I hang out with you.”
“Number one I’m fourteen.” Dustin reminded him, closing his eyes as Steve began to work his magic on his scalp, “And number two is because I’m awesome.”
“Your ego is the size of Mars, dude.” Steve said over the sound of hairspray.
“Actually, Mars is relatively small. Smaller than Earth. If you were gonna make that joke correctly you should have used Neptune.”
“I’m done.”
“Wow. One correction and Steve Hopper’s throwing in the towel on our brotherhood.” Dustin sounded genuinely offended, “Does killing monsters together mean nothing to you?”
“No dumbass,” Steve grabbed his shoulders, pulling Dustin up off of his makeshift seat on the toilet lid to look in the mirror, “I’m done with your hair.”
“Already-?” Dustin’s eyes caught his own in the bathroom mirror, effectively cutting himself short. Almost instantly, Steve watched as a giant toothless smile took up most of Dustin’s face. He felt a sense of brotherly pride, trying not to smile too hard as Dustin admired himself in the mirror.
Their hair matched perfectly, despite the texture differences. With a single superman curl falling onto their foreheads, and a matching sideways quiff. Dustin and Steve smiled at each other in the mirror for a moment too long, perhaps looking like fools. Not that either of them cared.
“Dude.” Dustin said excitedly, “You’ve got a gift.”
“What can I say? I love to give.” Steve joked with a bright, easy grin, “Wanna show your mom?”
Dustin’s mom made him take about a thousand photos before they left the house. Some of just Dustin, standing in the doorway with a dorky smile. Others, Steve opted to take so that she could scramble up beside her son in her nightgown. Those were Steve’s favorite, because Dustin’s face flushed red in embarrassment. Ms. Henderson could be a demanding photographer as she even forced Steve into a few photos. Steve saddled up beside him, wrapping an arm around Dustin’s shoulders, the two holding up matching thumbs ups.
It was a bittersweet. Steve had no photo of his outfit for the snowball dance. Back then, Dad drank himself half to death and Steve hadn’t any clue where his mom ran off to. But he pushed down the feelings of dread and regret for Dustin’s sake, and made sure to ask Ms. Henderson for a few copies. For preservation purposes.
And for the empty frame he’d buy at Melvald’s tomorrow for his bedside table.
“Oh, shit I forgot!” Dustin remarked just as the two were dawning their winter coats and heading to Steve’s glorious Ford Pinto, “Wait here! It’s my room!”
Dustin darted off to his room, Ms. Henderson and Steve sharing a mutual look of fond exasperation. Dustin finally came back into the room after a few awkwardly long seconds, this time with a small, handheld sized present wrapped in Christmas paper.
He offered it to Steve. Steve tilted his head at him in confusion.
“For you.” Dustin said, pressing the gift into Steve’s chest until he wrapped a hand around it, “It’s from the whole party. Don’t open it until you’re alone.”
Steve flushed as red as his holiday sweater, “Ah, dude I can’t–”
“Whatever you’re going to say is dumb and I don’t want to hear it.” Dustin sassed, “Just take the present, Steve.”
“Thank you.” Steve replied, voice suddenly going high with an overwhelming emotion he hadn’t felt in years. He realized awkwardly that they had left Ms. Henderson out of the conversation, so he turned to her to add, “Merry Christmas, Ms. Henderson.”
“Merry Christmas, Steve.” She said kindly.
Dustin grabbed onto his sleeve pointedly, almost like a child, “Well there’s that. We’re gonna be late. C’mon!” and with that, he dragged him out the door, trying to dig into Steve’s pockets for the keys to his Pinto.
—
They were a little late by the time Steve was pulling up to the Hawkins Middle drop off zone, but Steve promised it that all the cool kids showed up late anyway. Some Cyndi Lauper song was playing loud enough that they could hear it from outside. Steve was sure Dustin was going to jump out of the car while it was still moving to get inside, but by the time Steve slowed them down to a complete stop, Dustin hadn’t moved a muscle.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Steve asked.
Dustin shrunk down in his seat, “Maybe I shouldn’t go. You and me could hang out instead. We can watch A New Hope and–”
“No, no, no.” Steve cut him off, turning in his seat to face him, “No way, man. We can watch Star Wars any day. This is your eighth grade dance, dude. I had my first kiss here.”
“Really?” Dustin raised an eyebrow.
“No.” Steve admitted, “It was maybe my third. But it was my first time kissing the most popular girl in school. It solidified my place in the high school totem pole. It’s important.”
Dustin’s mouth twisted up as he considered the information. He grabbed Steve’s rearview mirror, taking another long look at himself. This time, however, that adorable toothless smile was nowhere to be seen. The kid was belittling himself, frowning into the mirror and Steve just couldn’t have that.
He grabbed the mirror, pulling it away from Dustin’s point of view, “None of that. C’mon. You look sharp. You look like a million bucks.”
“Really?” Dustin asked, eyes all wide and blue and waiting. Like Steve held all the answers in the universe.
Steve meant it when he said, “Really. You’re gonna go in there and you’re gonna knock ‘em dead.”
Dustin laughed at that.
Steve swatted him on the chest, “I’m serious! They’re gonna… they’re gonna drool man. You’re not gonna be able to keep ‘em off of you.”
Dustin’s laughter continued. Steve loved the kid’s laugh. It came from his belly, untouched and naive in all the ways it should be. Steve’s heart clenched protectively.
Damn, he thought to himself, another one. First Will, then El, and now Dustin. Steve was going to graduate next semester as a brother of three and he started high school with a dead sister.
Steve swallowed down the dread and the regret that only seemed to grow as the night went on. He clapped Dustin on the shoulder excitedly.
“You got this, man.”
“I got this.” Dustin repeated, “I’m like a lion.” he purred. Actually purred. Like as in the animal.
Steve winced, “But don’t do that, okay?”
“Okay.”
Dustin held his hand out for a high five. Steve slapped it with gusto. And with that, Dustin was out of the car, throwing the door open and rushing inside. Steve yelled after him, “Tell your friends I’m picking you all up at nine! Nine o'clock on the dot!”
“On the dot!” Dustin screamed back, shoulder checking the door as he entered the dance.
When Dustin swung the door to the dance open, Steve got the clearest look of her he’s had in weeks. Nancy Wheeler, dressed to the nines as a chaperone for a middle school dance. Her and Jonathan had both volunteered, and had even called Steve to ask if he wanted to sign up. It was nice enough of them to keep trying to include him, but Steve couldn’t help but feel intensely sick every time he thought about hanging out with them alone. He declined.
Seeing her here now, beautiful in her magenta dress, her curly hair pulled back in just the perfect way, Steve was glad he’d let them down. He couldn’t have handled watching Jonathan get to dance with her instead of him.
The world seemed to always have it out for Steve, he thought bitterly, because before he could pull out of the parking lot Nancy was catching his eye through the door, and holding up a finger to get him to wait.
She wanted to talk to him.
Steve put the car back in park, rolled down the window and prepared himself mentally for whatever she had to say. Maybe, she thought this was the perfect time to tell him that when they came back from break, she didn’t want him hanging off of her and Jonathan at the lunch tables.
Nancy sauntered out of the middle school looking like some sort of beautiful Christmas angel. Steve’s heart actually hurt. She walked out to meet him at his Pinto, leaning into the rolled-down window.
“Hey stranger,” She said with that awkward little smile that always made Steve’s legs feel like jelly, “Dustin looks great. Good job with his hair.”
Steve kept his hands on the wheel, their grip increasingly tightening, “Thanks.”
“I’ve been trying to find the right time to tell you this..” Nancy started, and Steve went as white as a ghost, “When me and Jonathan ran off just before everything got out of hand? I want to tell you where we went.”
Steve blanched, “Nance, no.”
But Nancy pushed through, talking with her eyes staring right into Steve’s soul, “We visited Hawkins lab. And we recorded them confessing that they were directly responsible for yours and Will’s disappearance.”
“I’m sorry. What?” Steve blurted out, because of all the places he thought this was going, that really wasn’t it.
“Let me finish, yeah?” Nancy almost scolded him, like he was a child, “Anyway we took the tape to this guy named Murray, long store. Together we sort of..crafted a slightly watered down explanation of what happened to you and Will. About chemicals, and some..electrical surges?” She seemed confused even just saying it, “I don’t fully get it but we’ve got a recorded confession and proper evidence and..everything.”
Steve didn’t respond. He just kept staring at her with his jaw agape.
“I’m telling you this because we finished it up and yesterday I sent it anonymously to the Hawkins post. They’re gonna release the information any day now. Hawkins lab will be closed for good. You, and will, and El are never gonna have to step foot in there ever again. And nobody can whisper about you in the hallways because you’re not just some kid who stumbled into the woods. Something really bad happened to you and you deserve to be able to move on from it.”
Steve felt tears prick his eyes.
“I’m really sorry we didn’t tell you where we went. Or took you with us, or even…” Nancy trailed off, leaving that train of thought unsaid, “I just thought you should know. We did it for Will. And El. . . but mostly for you. As your friends.”
“Nancy,” Steve croaked emotionally, “I don’t know what to say–”
“Just stop avoiding me and Jon like the plague.” Nancy said, her own eyes shining with unshed tears, “Even if you and I aren’t meant to be together..I think we’re at least meant to be in each other's lives. . . and you didn’t hear this from me, but Jon misses you like crazy. He listens to The Smiths and sighs wistfully out car windows over you.”
Steve and Nancy both laughed wetly at that.
“Are we okay?” She asked.
Steve took a moment to consider this. At the end of the day, it still hurt. Two of his closest friends ran off behind his back and got together. But what they did for him, Will, and El…there was a piece of Steve’s heart touched in that moment that was still raw and naive from childhood.
“We’re okay.” Steve promised, wiping at his eyes, “Now go back in there and keep an eye on Dustin for me, yeah?”
Nancy nodded sweetly.
“And Will.” Steve added on, drumming his fingers on his steering wheel. He and Will haven’t spoke since their last moment together in the Byers’ shed, but Steve never stopped caring. They just needed some space. They’d talk. Soon.
Quickly, as Nancy started to walk away, he called out, “And El!”
Nancy turned around with an excited smile, “She’s coming?!”
Steve brought his finger up to his mouth, “Shh! Just promise!”
Nancy crossed her finger over his chest, “I’ve got them, Steve. Go home.”
Steve smiled.
He would go home, but he had one more stop he had to make before that.
—
“Careful,” Steve said, grabbing Eddie by the hand before he could launch himself ahead, “You were about to step on a tripwire.”
Eddie looked downright adorable in his giant winter coat and matching beanie. He almost didn’t wear any outer layers when Steve swung by to pick him up, but Steve reminded him they had a little walk in the woods before they reached their destination. Eddie’s face was healing up nicely since their run in with Billy Hargrove last month. Both of his eyes were open, and only dusted in a light blu-ish brown. His split lip still made eating hard, but all things considered, Eddie was doing fine.
Steve as well. Was fine, that is, Hop had picked him up and got his head stitched back together. After that, there was about a four day period where the doctors had him on all the good shit, so Steve doesn’t really remember much other than sleeping on every available flat surface and watching TV with an also bedridden El.
Steve demonstrated how to hop over the tripwire, watching patiently as Eddie joined him on the other side.
“Chief wasn’t taking any chances, huh?” Eddie asked.
Steve shrugged, “We’re just keeping El safe.”
The cabin was in view now, in all its polite but homey glory. Eddie was staring up at it, taking it in from all angles like it was a piece of contemporary art and not a shitty little cabin in the woods.
Eddie stared in silence for so long, Steve started to get a little nervous.
“It’s just a house.” Steve said sheepishly.
“Just a house?” Eddie repeated, “This is Steve Hopper’s house. This place is top secret. I’m one of the few members of Hawkins society privy to its top secret location.” Eddie clasped Steve’s hand in both of his own, “Thank you for this honor.”
Steve laughed at his antics, and with that, the two teenagers hopped up the stairs and pushed through to the inside of the cabin. Christmas music was playing softly inside, and the whole room smelled of the gingerbread cookies Steve had baked just a few hours before he left. He glanced at the platter, jaw dropping as he saw only one cookie left of the previous dozen.
“Eleven Jane Hopper,” Steve yelled, “How many cookies did you eat?”
He started tugging off layers, Eddie following suit. The two left a pile of coats, beanies, and scarves on the floor, and Steve set his present from Dustin onto the kitchen table just as Eleven came running in from the bathroom.
She looked gorgeous. Dressed in a beautiful blue dress, her hair styled with a clip, and her eyes dusted in a matching blue eye shadow. She smiled shyly around lip glossed lips.
“How do I look?” El asked instead of answering Steve’s question.
“Beautiful.” Steve promised.
Eddie crossed to her quickly, grabbing El by the hands and twirling her around the room to the tune of Blue Christmas. “Well, Miss Hopper!” Eddie put on a fake Elvis impression, eliciting a few giggles from the young girl, “You look mighty fine this evening indeed.”
Steve smiled softly at their antics. A presence strolled up beside him, and Steve knew immediately it was his father. Steve let his head fall easily to Hopper’s shoulder.
“How’d the drop off go?” Hopper asked.
“Great. Dustin’s mom must’ve taken a hundred photos of him before we left.” Steve paused, “How many of my gingerbread men did you eat?”
“None.” Hopper lied through his teeth, swiping the very final cookie off the platter. He took almost half the damn thing in one bite, talking with his mouthful, “I don’t even like ‘em.”
“Eddie didn’t even get to try them!” Steve whined.
“Make more.” Eleven said, suddenly appearing as though she had teleported across the room. She looked a little winded, flushed in the nose, like her and Eddie hadn’t stopped spinning the entire time Steve was talking to Hopper. Which was, Steve realized, entirely possible.
“You’ll be safe right?” Steve said nervously as Hopper shoved the other half of the gingerbread man into his mouth. Steve busied himself with fixing a loose strand of El’s hair, “Me and Eddie will come pick you up at 9:00 if we don’t hear anything. But if you want to come home before then you just ask Nancy to use the phone. The house number is–”
“Steve.” El said calmly, “I know the number.”
Steve pouted. Hopper held out the sleeves of El’s small navy winter coat. She stepped into it, wrapping herself in the warmth and doing one final twirl in excitement.
“You boys’ll be alright here?” Hopper asked as he opened the door, letting the cold Indiana air into the otherwise warm cabin.
Eddie threw an arm over Steve’s shoulder, “We’ll be bored out of our minds, waiting to hear all about the Princess and her glass slipper. And if she gets to kiss the prince when the clock strikes.”
Eleven giggled excitedly, waving exaggeratedly to Steve and Eddie one last time as Hopper ushered her out the door. They were already running late.
Just before they disappeared into the darkness of the woods, Eddie yelled out, “Make Wheeler’s heart stop!”
Steve pulled the door closed with a roll of his eyes, “You know she has no idea what you’re saying half the time you’re talking?”
“She’ll get there.” Eddie promised, “Don’t tell her, but I got her a Joan Jett tape for Christmas.”
“She’ll love it.” Steve agreed easily, because El loved every gift she’s ever received even if it was a rock off the road. She was good like that.
“So this is where you’ve been living this whole time.” Eddie said after a moment of silence. He circled the room taking in the sights of all the knick knacks, framed photos on the walls, and various throw blankets across nearly every surface (Ellie gets cold.)
“That door’s my room.” Steve blurted out, pointing to it just before Eddie passed it, “Um. You can go. If you want.”
Steve thought that was probably the most awful, awkward sentence to ever come out of his mouth, but it was all worth it once Eddie sent him the brightest smile, and practically threw open the door to get a peek inside.
Steve tried to imagine what it would be like to see his room for the first time, considering he’d gotten deeply accustomed to the sights. The cabin was tiny, and therefore the rooms were small. It could only fit a bed, a dresser, and a modest desk. Steve bit his lip as Eddie continued his silent tour. His room was a little messy, a few stray pieces of clothing laying on the floor, his bed haphazardly made. Steve felt his stomach do a nervous flip, and he tried to remind himself that this was Eddie of all people. Eddie, whose own room often looked like a world war two bomb went off.
“I like it.” Eddie decided, flopping onto Steve’s bed, “I didn’t take you for a blue guy.”
“Excuse me?”
“Everything’s blue." Eddie explained, pointing as he spoke, “Your bed is blue, your backpack’s blue, even your walls. Your walls are painted blue, man. Just seemed like an odd color for you.”
Steve hummed, moving to lay beside Eddie on his bed. Eddie’s hair fanned out like a halo around him, which meant Steve could feel the ends of it tickling at his cheek. It made him smile.
“Blue’s like…. A manly color.” Steve defended.
Eddie snorted.
“What?” Steve pressed, elbowing his companion lightly in the ribs, “I’m serious. Not like you can talk, your entire room looks like a black hole.”
“It fits my image.”
“Oh,” Steve scoffed, “And blue doesn’t fit mine?”
“No.” Eddie said, almost completely seriously. He turned his head to face Steve entirely, long black locks surrounding his pale features. Steve turned his head too. They were laying so close together on his shitty little bed, if Steve even moved an inch closer – their noses would touch.
“No?” Steve repeated.
“Blue is a sad color.” Eddie said, voice quiet, eyes wide, lips pink, “It’s like… the upside down. Dark and cold and sad. And you’re none of those things. You’re like, the brightest person I’ve ever met in my life. And you run warm, anyway. Like some kind of personal heater. And you’ve got freckles,”
Eddie reached a finger over to tap Steve lightly on the nose. Steve went cross-eyed, the tip of nose going red hot under the unexpected attention.
“You’re the furthest from blue you could get, Steve Hopper. As far as I’m aware, you’re pure light. Bright yellow. Like the sun.”
Steve swallowed thickly. His mouth felt dry. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. His heart was pumping loudly in his chest.
“That’s my favorite color.” Steve said dumbly.
“Yeah?” Eddie asked.
Steve nodded, “It was Sarah’s.”
He was sure he ruined the mood. He expected Eddie to give him that pitying look, the one that everyone got when they didn’t know what to do when Steve brought her up.
Instead, Eddie sat up suddenly, whipped his hair out of his face, and looked forward.
“Steve Hopper. Is that a George Michael poster?” Eddie’s smile began to grow into something sinister and teasing.
Steve’s entire face flushed, “I have no idea how that got here. That’s El’s.”
“Bullshit.” Eddie sing-songed, hopping off of Steve’s bed and going straight for his tape holder, “You listen to Wham!”
Eddie grabbed his Fantastic! tape, and that was enough to get Steve jumping off of his bed, practically screeching as he attempted to tackle Eddie to the floor.
“Viva La George Michael!” Eddie screamed, holding the tape ceremoniously above his head, just a fingertips length of reach for Steve. Eddie placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder, leveling them for eye contact, “Just so you know, we’re totally listening to this in its entirety.”
“I hate you.” Steve deadpanned, but he couldn’t wipe the dorky smile off of his face.
“But you don’t hate George Michael.” Eddie teased, “Let’s listen to Bad Boys first.”
“You’re such a nerd.”
“Thank you, Stevie.” Eddie smiled all big, sparkling eyes and wild hair. He looked stunning. Remarkable.
Steve wanted to see that smile everyday. He’d be the butt of a thousand jokes if it meant he’d see that smile.
—
It was later that night, once Steve had dropped off all of the other little gremlins back to their respective houses, and Eddie had gone back to his trailer, and El was crashed out asleep in her bed –
That Steve remembered the present.
He was halfway through brushing his teeth when he abandoned the act all together (He’d just brush ‘em tomorrow.) and settled beside his father on the couch, present clutched excitedly. Hopper had a beer in one hand, the other holding up his head as he dozed in and out. It was only eleven o’clock, but Steve supposed you get tired early when you get old.
Some black and white show was playing on the TV, boring both of the Hopper men out of their minds. So, it was no surprise that as soon as Steve pulled out the box, it piqued Hopper’s interest.
“Where’d you get that?” Hopper asked.
“Dustin gave it to me.” Steve said, smiling. He ran his fingers across the front of the paper. It was adorned with little reindeer, pulling Santa’s sleigh. Rudolph led the pack with his bright red nose.
Steve used to hate Christmas. Back when Dad paid him no mind, and his only friends were Tommy and Carol. Christmas meant a constant reminder that he had no mother, and his sister was six feet under, and that they were the only house on the street without a tree.
But then, Will had come into his life. And Christmas with the Byers’ meant Joyce’s gingerbread recipe. And the Peanuts holiday special on VHS playing loudly in the other room. Christmas at the Byers’ was nice and it was lovely and Steve was grateful to be a part of it – but it wasn’t his. It was Will’s.
Then they moved to the cabin. And El wormed her way into Steve’s heart, and Dad started to show up more, and now Steve felt like they were really starting to reclaim Christmas. Make it special again. With a family.
Their tree was modest and tiny, a little limp on one side. It sat in the corner of their living room, covered in rainbow lights and crappy little baubles they bought from Melvald’s.
Steve had the innocence of Christmas ripped away from him young, back when reality set in as Sarah got sicker and sicker. He knew Santa wasn’t real, because the only gift he wanted was for Sarah to be out of the hospital in time for the holidays and instead: seven year old Steve got a funeral. But El was really starting to love Christmas. Stringing garland, talking about the Snowball, and playing Christmas records. It was as though, when it sent Steve to the Upside Down, the universe was actually giving him another chance. Another Christmas. Another family.
“Well, are you going to open it?” Hopper asked.
Steve huffed through his nose, sending his dad a glare. Nonetheless, he pulled the paper off carefully and meticulously. He wanted to keep it. Once removed, Steve was left staring at a small brown box.
“It’s from the kid with the hat, right?”
Steve snorted, “I know you know his name.”
“I just wanna know if I should move before it explodes on us.”
“He’s a good kid.”
“He kept a monster as a pet.”
“In his defense,” Steve defended, “He didn’t know it was a Demogorgon.”
Steve removed the lid, revealing a folded up piece of note paper and a velvet drawstring baggie. Steve unfolded the note first. It read:
“To our very own Fighter,
Thanks for looking out for your fellow party members. Your initiation game is on December 20th. 5 pm. Mike’s basement. Don’t be late.
Merry Christmas from the Party.”
Steve blinked. With shaky hands, he pulled the bag open, pouring out the contents to reveal a complicated series of yellow dice and a tiny statue of a knight holding a sword.
“What’s all that?” Hopper asked.
Steve brought the small pile of trinkets up to his chest, feeling the familiar wash of tears welling up in his eyes.
“It’s nothing,” He replied, sniffling, “The kids are just makin’ me join their little nerd game.”
The underlying meaning of the sentence didn’t go unnoticed to either of the Hoppers. Steve was a part of something. A member of their party. Steve stood up, holding his present as though it was the most fragile artifact he’d ever held. He was halfway to his room when Hopper called out, “Hey, kid?”
Steve turned around with a questioning look.
“I’m just…” Hopper searched for the right words, “I’m so proud. Of you, kid. I’m proud you’re my kid.”
It was awkward, and half-finished, but to Steve, it was the greatest thing he’d ever heard his father say.